


Shards Reflecting Light

by Ayerea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Spirits, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Lotor (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Multi, Pidge | Katie Holt-centric, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-08-11 07:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20150230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayerea/pseuds/Ayerea
Summary: "Keith, you're an only child. Who is Shiro?"Katie is fifteen years and a day old. She has been an only child for just as long.Katie has a brother. He is five years, seven months and ten days older than she is.Keith's brother is gone and not even Adam, the man Shiro planned to propose to, remembers him. Katie sells her name and her life as she knew it to find her lost brother. The Garrison holds the answers they are searching for, but something twisted hides in the corners of the school.Soon missing brothers is not the biggest problem they are facing.





	1. The Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pidge's pronouns are female, but she pretends to be a boy, much like in the first episodes of VLD, so when people talk about Pidge it's male pronouns except for those who know.

The boy watches the starless sky, a frown twisting his face. It is not an expression he wears often. A shaggy furred bear lies beside him, dark brown in colour, covered in earth and moss. It presses its head against the boy's side, makes an inquisitive sound. The boy smiles down at it. It is not a happy expression.  
"Something feels wrong," he says, bites his lips and bleeds silver. "The winds have changed, they sing of war and darkness."  
A lion's roar shakes the calm around them. They listen intently to the quiet that follows. The bear huffs and stands, shakes mud and leaves from its fur.  
"Maybe you are right," the boy says, his hand finds its place between the bear's ears easily, a practiced motion. "Maybe you are right," he repeats.  
The bear's eyes burn golden in the night.  
The boy breathes moonlight and breaks.

Grey clouds drift over the sky, blanketing the moon that thrones like a midnight sun over the city. Somewhere stars twinkle behind smock and cotton covers. Keith waits leaned against the cool metal of a flickering street lamp. He breathes smoke and flicks ashes onto the sidewalk. The bus stop is empty. He is the only soul still out this late.  
A deep sigh escapes his lungs, carries the weight of impatience and annoyance. For the third time in as many minutes he pulls his phone from his jacket pocket. Some cheap model, whose appearance resembles an Iphone, but whose functions more accurately match a potato. He presses the on off button at the side maybe more aggressively than is strictly necessary. It is 21 minutes past two. No new messages. No calls. The last bus arrived three hours ago. Shiro's last bus arrived four hours ago. Keith growls at the phone and life in general. He glances at the time again, 2:23, and for a second his finger hovers over Adam's number undecided. Fuck it, he thinks, Shiro has not answered his last 17 calls, it is time to change tactics.  
"Who's it?" Adam's voice sounds muffled and tired.  
"Keith," Keith says. "The pissed brother of your very dead boyfriend."  
"Keith?" He hears rustling on the other side. "Keith," Adam mumbles confused and Keith is two seconds away from walking over there and murdering his brother's boyfriend too. "I don't know a- Oh, Keith." Adam yawns. Keith wants to hit something. Preferably Shiro. "Do you know what time it is?"  
"Yes," Keith hisses. "Which is why I am coming over tomorrow, later today, whatever, and not right this second. And tell Shiro that running is futile." He hangs up without any form of goodbye and starts walking home. Shiro better have a damn good explanation for this.

He knocks on the baby blue door of Adam's home at six o'clock sharp. He is tired and angry and worried. He hears meowing and hurried steps, before the door is opened in one fast movement. Adam is only dressed in a pair of jogging pants. His tanned skin glows in the morning light. His expression is less glowing.  
"It's my free day," Adam says. The cat spirit that is rose petals and daffodil roots paws at his feet.  
"That's nice," Keith says and pushes past him. "Shiro!" He shouts. When there is no answer he turns to Adam. "Where is my brother?"  
Adam looks at him for a long time, confusion and concern painting an ugly picture on his face.  
"It's really early," Adam says in lieu of an answer. "Maybe you should sit down."  
"I don't want to sit," Keith hisses. He takes a deep breath. Patience yields focus his gay ass. Right now all it yields is murderous intent. "My brother," he says. "Now."  
"Keith," Adam says slowly. "You're an only child."  
Keith is this close to snapping. He can feel it. "I'm aware I'm adopted, thank you," he says. "Shiro!" He shouts again. It is closer to an angry scream this time.  
"Keith," Adam says again, more insistent. "Who is Shiro?" He asks.  
"Is this a joke?" Keith asks in turn, brows furrowed and teeth bared. He stretches his awareness, lets his soul search for the one he knows so well. Shiro is not here. There is only Adam. A fog hangs over the energy of Adam's soul. It feels like Death.  
Keith runs.

There is a room in her home that stands empty. It is not locked, but Katie has never seen the beige door opened, has never seen her parents go in or out, has never seen what lies behind it for herself. She doesn't want to. By nature she is a curious one, but she has never asked herself what purpose the room has.  
Katie has lost something and she searches for it everywhere. The thing about lost things is, that sometimes you are not quite sure yourself what they are, you just know they are gone. She crawls under her bed, sneezes away the dust that attacks her. Her fingers fumble for something, they come away dirty, streaked brown and grey and empty. She pushes herself farther along, grimaces at the cobwebs and dustbunnies. Metal and glass meets her searching hand, she grabs it and wiggles out from the narrow space. The glasses reflect the sunlight streaming in from her window. She doesn't need glasses and neither does her mother, her father's have rectangular glass. The pair she holds is round and too broad for her father's face. Katie furrows her brows, she does not know where they came from.  
There is a hazy image of a boy with honey hair and caramel eyes framed by thick brows. He smiles like sunshine. She remembers the scent of disgustingly sweet coffee and oil stained fingers. He has a name that comes to her sluggish like lead and blood.  
Katie is fifteen years and a day old. She has been an only child for just as long  
Katie has a brother. He is five years, seven months and ten days older than she is.  
There are no pictures of him in their house. She wonders why. The memory of him comes in bits and pieces. She remembers he promised to come home for her birthday, there is no memory of disappointment bitter on her tongue, tough she knows there should be. She remembers he was at the Garrison, she doesn't know what he did there. His name is Matt but she has no recognition of his voice.  
The thought that he might never return makes her heart ache. Katie loves Matt. Objectically she knows why, they are family and blood, emotionally she does not quite understand, afterall everything she has of him are a few puzzle pieces and a pair of glasses. She needs to find him, that much she is sure of.  
"Any ideas where you want to study later?" Her mother asks when they eat breakfast together. The chair beside Katie is empty. She thinks it should not be. She licks sticky strawberry from her cheek and wonders why her mother buys peach jam that no one eats.  
"The Garrison," she answers. Metal clangs as a knife falls from her mother's hands. She looks terrified.  
"No," her father says, looks at her sadly.  
"Why?" Katie asks. Her parents look at her. Their eyes are cloudy.  
"No," her father says again. Her parents are scared. They do not know why.  
Katie has a brother who is gone and she needs to find him. She needs to go to the Garrison. She has to go now, not in two years when she is old enough. The knowledge that her parents will never let her go sits heavy in her veins.  
In the night she walks between dreams into another world and searches for beings that make her nothing. Her mother and father have forgotten one child, they can forget another. She needs to force them to. She finds cold eyes surrounded by white and grey fur. He smiles at her, sharp teeth bared. It brings ice to her soul.  
She sells him fifteen years of a parent's love to their child and her name. He gives her another. In the morning her mother screams and her father chases her out of her childhood home. She leaves for the Garrison the same day.

The Garrison stands like a dark dragon of metal and glass in the middle of the stony desert. Keith watches it from his seat at the window. The bus drives quietly over the asphalt leading up to the throning building. Most of the other passengers are sleeping. It is late and the excitement of attending the prestigious school has already worn off hours ago. These children are the people he is supposed to spend the next three years with. Maybe he should pay more attention to them, but Keith has no such desire. He did not come here to make friends and he has no plans to stay. The Garrison can only give him one thing he wants. His brother is all he has come for.  
In front of them the sun sinks beyond the horizon, kissing the sky goodbye and brushing softly across the sand and stones surrounding them. The fiery glow bathes everything in the last rays of light. It makes the Garrison look more menacing than a single building should. The moon already hangs full, high up in the darkness surrounded by softly twinkling stars.  
The bus comes to a stop beside the driveway of the Garrison. Soft murmuring and groans fill the vehicle, most of the others only awakening now, that they have reached their destination. Keith wastes no time and exits the bus. The cold evening air brushes harshly against his face and penetrates the weak defenses of his jacket. A tall man waits for them outside the building. He waves the children over. There is no organisation or reason to the group, no careful shuffling into a line, only the mass of bodies all walking as one to the entrance of the Garrison. Keith is focused on the man waiting for them, he strides forwards with fast steps. He does not see the black shape standing on the cliff's edge watching them with glowing eyes. 

Pidge does. She watches her surroundings always, takes in the Garrison building, the man waiting for them and the dark shape that might be a rock, if it would not be blacker than the stones it stands on, a void waiting, with glowing eyes that might be stars, if they would be more silver than they are gold. The spirits of the desert are mischievous and those of the night just the same with a crueler streak. Deep howling echoes over them, a mournful song full of promise. The children around her flinch as one. Pidge is not afraid of the ancients beings of the dark. Pidge knows of other things that make her blood run cold and her bones shake. Pidge knows of things with old eyes and cold smiles that scare her far more.  
The man that waited for them pays no attention to the howling that has stopped. He leads them inside the building with only the words "Follow me" falling from his lips. They walk through grey halls lit by harsh LED lights and come to a stop in a large hall. Pidge hastily makes her way to the front of the group. She is not the tallest and she dislikes people. It will of no use to her when she gets caught up in the middle or, even worse, the back of the group.  
"Welcome to the Garrison," the man says. His voice is gruff. Now that Pidge is closer and the man is facing her she can see that one of his eyes is scarred.  
"You lot will call me Professor Iverson. I am the vice principal of the Garrison. That means if any of you have or make trouble you will be coming to me. voluntarily and not. Those of you that will leave the Garrison forever are the ones that fail to impress me."  
He looks at them with a smirk curling his lip, seizing them up and judging them as lacking. Some of the children flinch back, a worried murmur carrying through the crowd. Not all will cut it. Pidge is not worried. She knows she will. She has to.  
Iverson does not clear his throat pointedly like most teachers she knows do. He simply commands silence with a look, a twist of his lips and silence comes.  
"Your lesson plan and your room number have been sent to you by mail, I hope you have them with you. For the poor bastards that don't, come to me once I'm done talking. I have a list ready for you idiots. Lay your hand on your room door and state your name. Loud and Clear. The doors lock on to your name and energy signature. Once your energy is registered any door to the rooms you may enter will open. Quartz plates are hung up in every hall, place your hands on them to be shown your lesson plan. The dormitories are through the door on the other side of the hall. Your bags are in your room. Breakfast is in here from seven to seven thirty. Good night," he finishes his explanation.  
Pidge pulls a folded paper from her pants pockets. The number of her room is highlighted in bright yellow. She follows the other children through the hall, while a third of the group fall back and line up in front of Iverson. She watches them only shortly, quickly leaving to find her room. Before she disappears into the hallway she catches a glimpse of bright blue eyes watching her. 

Keith enters the room that will be his for the foreseeable future, the one he has to share with another until he finds his brother. It isn't much, depressing dark colours and shiny metal. Two beds, a nightstand for each, a wardrobe, two desks and a window with closed curtains. His roommate is already sitting on one of the beds. Keith looks at him, her, looks at her and blinks. There is a name at the tip of his tongue that does not come. He frowns. She looks at him too, recognition and something more hazy in her eyes.  
"Keith?" She asks. She knows him and he knows her, if only he knew how, from where. She looks different, different from what he can not say. Her hair is cut short, styled spiky, wild, and she is wearing glasses. The way she looks reminds him of- of- There is another name waiting to be said, heavier than stones, even more elusive than hers. It leaves him cold. He does not remember.  
"I don't-" He begins.  
"Pidge," she says. It does not sound right, feels as unfamiliar to him as it seems to do to her. There is nothing else he can call her though.  
"What are you doing here?" Keith asks, taking the last steps into the room.  
"Searching for my brother," she answers in a tone that means it should be obvious, that he is being an idiot. There is something wrong with her words, something that makes him frown.  
"You don't have a brother," he says, has never been more sure of anything. But has he not heard similar words only days before? Had he not known them to be wrong, wrong, wrong? She looks at him like he struck her, eyes wide and something like tears in her eyes.  
"I do," she says. It does not sound right, is not something he can seem to wrap his head around. Just the idea sounds impossible, a bad joke.  
"Okay," he says and sighs, rakes his fingers through his dark hair.  
"I do!" She is shouting now. He gives her a look.  
"Okay," he repeats. "My brother promised to come home but never did. Adam, his boyfriend, was confused when I asked him about it. He barely remembers me. I guess because my brother introduced us." He shrugs. "So, okay." He puts more pressure on the word now.  
"Oh," she says, looks down.  
"Yeah," he says.  
"So you too," she says. She glances up at him. "What's his name?" She asks.  
"Shiro." Keith says the name with Resignation. The reaction is always the same, he barely dares say it at all.  
A haze colours her eyes darker, the honey colour cloudy, before it clears. "Shiro!" She is shouting again. It is the sound of an epiphany. Pidge jumps from the bed, hastily takes the four steps needed to cross the room and reach him. Her hands grap his shoulder, it is an awkward position for her, forces her on the tip of her toes. There is something crazed in her eyes.  
"Matt," she says, tries to shake him.  
"Who?" But he knows who. A shudder runs through him, overwhelms him with the remnant of a spectre. The image of Shiro is as clear to him as water, the boy beside him is only a shadow. A shadow with a name.  
"Matt," he says. "Shiro's best friend." God, he feels so stupid. "I didn't know."  
"Mum and dad don't even remember anymore," she says flippant, but he can hear the hurt and the helplessness and he knows it well. "Didn't really expect you to."  
"But now I do," he says. "We can figure it out together. Four eyes see more than two, right?"  
"Right," she says, smiles for the first time since her family forgot the most important person in her life. 


	2. The Remaining

"Pidge, wake up." Keith glares down at the blanket larvae on the other bed. "Breakfast is starting soon."  
Pidge grumbles something, but the layers of fabric muffle it too far beyond human speech. "What?" He asks. A mop of wild hair appears.  
"I said 'Fuck off'," she repeats and bats away the blanket. "Move, I need to piss," she says. Keith snorts.  
"Nice," he says. Pidge glares at him.  
"I haven't had coffee yet and I'm the right size to kick where it hurts, don't tempt me."  
Keith raises his hands in a placating manner. "Sure," he says amused.  
"Fight me," Pidge answers and pushes past him. Keith waits for her beside their bedroom door. After ten minutes she leaves the bathroom looking a little more alive.  
"Better?" Keith asks sarcastic. Pidge snorts.  
"This isn't a snickers commercial," she says.  
On the way to the cafeteria, the hall from yesterday, they stop by one of the Quartz Plates.  
"Botanics, Circle Theory, Conductor Theory." Keith reads. Pidge groans as he reaches the last class.  
"It's about as interesting as it sounds like," she says. "Dad never shuts up about it."  
"Does your dad work with conductors?" Keith asks. Pidge turns to look at him. She is silent for a while, before she sighs full of resignation.  
"Something like that." 

Their Botanics classroom looks like most classrooms do. Two rows of tables with two chairs each and a larger desk in front of a whiteboard filling an otherwise empty room. Except the half furthest away from the entrance is all dirt and three empty flower pots stand on each table. Pidge grimaces. She hates nature.  
"Welcome," an elderly woman says after they all sit down at the tables. Her words make the few still side eying the dirt focus again. A calm smile on her face makes it seem even more sunken in than it is.  
"I am Professor Ryner," she introduces herself. "I will teach you about plants and their different uses in combination with the soul and its energy."  
She uncaps a black marker and draws a seedpod on the whiteboard, beside it she draws a little flame surrounded by wave like lines.  
"The first thing you will be learning today is making a plant grow instantly with the help of soul energy," she explains. "In each of the pots before you is an orchid seed, I want you to coax as many of them to grow as you can. You will be working with the person beside you for this exercise. Begin."  
Pidge looks at the girl beside her. She researched all her potential classmates before she came to the Garrison, as such the name comes easy to her. Ina Leifsdottir, a genius enrolled a year early. "Do you want to try first?" She asks Pidge after a moment of silence.  
"Not really," she answers and shrugs. Ina nods and sends out small waves towards the first pot. Pidge can not feel energy as well as a sensor would, there is no uniqueness to it for her, just a slight change in pressure, like a breeze. Ina frowns.  
"I killed it," she says. "You should try."  
Pidge concentrates on their second pot, tries to make her waves feel nature-y. The pot shakes and straight up explodes. Clayshards and dirt spread all over their table.  
"Too much," Ina says. No shit, Pidge thinks. Someone, a boy, snickers, but when Pidge turns to look she can not tell who it was.  
"Don't worry," Professor Ryner says. "I will clean up once class is done."  
Ina sends out another wave towards the third pot of their lineup. She frowns.  
"You should try again," she says. Pidge sighs but sends out her own wave. Weaker this time.  
"It likes you better," Ina says. "Its preening." She tilts her head. "Singing actually."  
Pidge's eyes widen in surprise. Ina is a sensor of a level she frankly finds ridiculous. Keith feels and breathes soul energy like it is basic math and not akin to advanced neuroscience. Ina needs to focus on what she is doing, but by the way she describes what she sees Pidge can tell sensing energy is as basic to her as painting by numbers.  
She channels her soul energy back into the orchid seed. Professor Ryner is watching them closely. She has after all just blown up one of these fuckers.  
"Less," Ina says. Pidge turns her output down. Ina is watching the pot of earth like it holds the secret of the universe.  
"Two percent more," she says. The calculation comes easy to Pidge, numbers always do, how much is she channeling, how much of that is two percent. She is unbelievably happy that Ina communicates in a language that she understands better than english.  
The orchid finally grows and blooms. Pidge sighs relieved. The group beside them, Hunk and Lance if she remembers correctly and she always does, have coaxed all three flower seeds to grow to a ridiculous size. Pidge glares.  
Keith and his partner, James Griffin, have killed not only all three flowers but also exploded the pots they came in. At least she is not the only one. Nice.  


"Objectively ten minutes should be enough to change classrooms," Pidge says annoyed, "but fuck whoever thought making the new kids have two classes after each other on opposite fucking sides of the building."  
Keith shrugs. "You're being dramatic."  
"Yeah, well I don't have you people's massive fucking legs." She huffs. Keith rolls his eyes amused and opens the classroom door for her.  
"How very nice of you to show up. Late," Professor Iverson says.  
"Time is a construct." Fuck. She said that out loud.  
"Everyone else managed to show up. What do you have to say for yourself?"  
"Pidge's legs are short and the halls are, quote, 'ridiculously long'," Keith says deadpan.  
"You are lucky we are not allowed to deal out detention for tardiness on the first day," Professor Iverson says. "Don't let it happen again. Give him a piggyback ride for all I care." His face screams unimpressed. "Sit down."  
"Jesus," Pidge mutters. "It's only three minutes."  
"Three minutes is a long time for some guys," Keith says completely serious as they sit down. Pidge gives him a long look.  
"I'm not sure," she says, "but I feel like you just made a sex joke." Keith does not so much as blink. Pidge grimaces.  
"Gross."  
"Are you two done?" James Griffin's 'I am done with people' face has nothing on Keith's, but Pidge has to give him credit, it is up there. Keith makes a face and does not answer him. Pidge nods.  
"Did you get what we're supposed to do?" James asks them, eyebrow raised. Keith makes to say something probably sarcastic and antagonizing, so Pidge stops him.  
"Nope." She pops the p cheerfully. James rolls his eyes and holds up a book he kept in his hands.  
"Summoning Circle, page eleven," he says. "Create a circle following the descriptions, hopefully summon a spirit and let Professor Iverson look it over." He pulls a chair over and sits down. "I'll read."  
"I'll make the pencil copy," Pidge says quickly. There is no way she is supposed to know as much about circles as she does and she is not even going to try to dumb herself down. Nuh uh.  
"Fine," Keith huffs. "Give me the ink." James hands him the ink pot and the brush, while Pidge grabs the pencil.  
"Okay, so," James scans over the page. "'Draw a circle.' No shit."  
Keith snorts. "Obviously."  
Pidge rolls her eyes. "You'd be surprised at the stupidity of some people."  
"I said circle first, Jessica, that's a triangle," a boy behind them says pissed.  
"I can just draw a circle around it now, no need to get angry," a girl, which she assumes to be Jessica, says.  
"Sure, if you want to summon a noodle," another girl retords.  
"Case in point," Pidge says. James and Keith look like the dumbness physically hurt them. James sighs.  
"Anyway, so 'elemental symbol of the spirit you are trying to call.'"  
"Triangle, great," Keith says. "Up or down?"  
"With a basic circle there's not going to be a very long reach, so we can rule out water," Pidge says.  
"Thank you," Keith says sarcastic. "That doesn't answer my question."  
"Desert spirits are mostly sand and wind," James muses. "I guess earth for sand?"  
"So down?" Keith asks.  
"Nah," Pidge says. "Theoretically all desert spirits are classified as fire. Make it up and a small line on each side of the upper part, instead of through."  
"That's not fire," James says. "Or anything really."  
Pidge holds up her finger. "Combo of fire and wind," she says.  
"Why not earth and wind?" Keith asks but brushes the symbol as she described it.  
"Because," Pidge says slowly, "then you have a star and that's going to be a clusterfuck. Earth, water or fire, air only." Keith grunts in acknowledgement, concentrated on not fucking up the triangle.  
"But that's not what it says in the book," James argues, a frown marring his face.  
Pidge shrugs. "It works," she says. James grumbles something but continues anyway.  
"'Anchor the summoning circle in the north for a calming effect on the spirit.'" He reads.  
"Soft anchor or hard anchor?" Keith asks, then scrunches up his nose. "Also where is north?"  
"Middle of the floor is a compass," James says. "I'll look." He pushes his chairs back and walks away, Pidge waits until he is gone before she turns to Keith.  
"If you anchor north I will personally slap you," she says.  
Keith snorts. "Didn't plan on it," he answers.  
"Bottom," James says as he returns. "With only one cardinal direction we don't need the fluidity of a soft anchor."  
Pidge nods in agreement and Keith brushes a smaller circle above the upper middle of their base circle.  
"That's south," James says, frowning again.  
"I'm aware, thank you," Keith says. "Should I anchor with a sun symbol?" He asks Pidge.  
"It's supposed to be north," James argues. Pidge and Keith give him a look.  
"We're in a desert," Pidge says.  
"Literally any direction is better than north," Keith adds.  
"Unless you absolutely want to offend a being that's probably older than all our grandparents together?" Pidge continues.  
James throws up his arms. "Do what you want," he says.  
"So, sun symbol?" Keith asks again.  
"Yeah," Pidge answers. He paints the symbol inside the smaller circle. Pidge scrutinizes what is basically an inverted five and shakes her head. "Pull the bottom a bit more down, like, diagonally."  
"Now what?" Keith asks.  
"Pidge makes a copy and then we have to burn it," James answers. "Unless you have another alternative?" He asks annoyed.  
Pidge is very tempted to dunk the thing in water just to spite him. That would ruin her work however. Keith shrugs and pulls his lighter from his jacket pocket. She grins.  
"What?" He asks.  
"Arsonist," she says.  
"You-" He takes a deep breath. "You literally saw me smoke just this morning."  
Her grin broadens. "Ah yes, when you nearly set of the smoke alarm. Good times."  
"Just make the damn copy," he bites out.  
She laughs and takes the pencil in hand, begins to sketch what Keith has drawn on his paper. Luckily she does not need to work with the same precision. She can, that's not it, but that would be tedious.  
Keith takes the inking and puts it to his lighter. With a click the flames begin to lap at the paper. Smoke lazily curls into the pattern of their circle. It glows, only a moment, before it dissipates.  
The scorpion is sand. Brown and beige and amber. It chitters.  
Pidge puts her hand up in the air to signal they are done. Professor Iverson walks between the tables of their less successful peers. He studies the spirit, then Pidge's copy of the basic circle they have created.  
"Good," he praises. "At least some of the newbies can think for themselves." At his words Keith gives James a smug look. Pidge elbows him in the side.  
Boys.  
When all groups have created a circle Iverson calls for their attention. On the board he has drawn two circles, Keith recognises one of them as their own.  
"Only six of you lot actually managed to summon a spirit today. These are the circles they drew, what do you notice?" Iverson asks.  
The second circle has a soft anchor, four smaller circles equally distanced from each other on all sides of the base. The east and west have a horizontal line halving them, over the line is a half circle. The symbol for the rising or setting sun, depending on the cardinal direction it is anchored to. The triangle inside the base points downwards, short lines on each side. The combination of earth and water.  
Keith would never use water for a place like this, but he knows enough about deserts, to be aware, that there are surprisingly many small plant spirits hopping around, when you pay attention. Those would react kindly to the combination of earth and water.  
"Theo Miles," Iverson calls up one the students that hesitantly raised their hands.  
"They used combined elemental symbols?" They say, though it sounds more like they are asking.  
"No," Iverson says. "Three other groups did the same." He looks around, ignores Pidge's hand beside Keith. She makes an aborted twitch, something that looks like she is trying not to frantically wave her hand around.  
"George Harris," Iverson calls and a boy at the table beside theirs lowers his hand.  
"They didn't anchor north," he says. Iverson nods.  
"Exactly. McClain, Garret, Leifsdottir, Gunderson, Kogane, Griffin, you will be writing an analysis on the other group's circle. As for the rest of you lot, minimum four pages that argue in detail why a north anchor is not recommended in this environment. For the group that used the water symbol, you know who you are, you will write an additional minimum two pages as to why that was a shit idea." He gives them all a hard stare. "Class dismissed." 

"What're you doing?" Keith asks Pidge, who is furiously doodling on a paper, while completely ignoring her food. To be fair the chicken is about as dry as the sand outside and the rice can only be called that with a lot of imagination. The tomato sauce is the only edible thing so far.  
"Sketching the other circle so I don't forget it," she answers. The paper is lackluster shoved inside her pant’s pocket. She looks at her food then at Keith. "How are you eating this?"  
"With a fork," he answers deadpan. Pidge rolls her eyes.  
"You know what I mean," she accuses. Keith shrugs.  
"It's not bread and water."  
Pidge pokes her chicken and grimaces. "I'd rather have bread and water actually."  
Keith rolls his eyes. "Where to next?" He asks her.  
"Conductor Theory is two halls over from the cafeteria," she answers. "Thank fucking god."  
Keith points his fork at her. "You don't believe in god."  
Pidge cotemplates that for a moment. "Thank fucking math." 

Pidge sits down between Markus and Nadia, she would rather sit with Keith, so as not to die from boredom, but the only other free seat is between James and Clara. Haha. Fuck no. Keith can deal with that. She only has so much kindness in her shrivelled little heart and it does not extent to dealing with Clara's probably negative IQ.  
Their Professor walks in and Pidge tells herself to keep breathing. She knew this would happen, but a small part of her had hoped it would not. There is a special kind of sadness in watching her father walk in and talk about strings and knots and soul energy, in watching his eyes trails over the class, over her, without seeing a spark of recognition in his face. The kind of sadness that steals her breath and burns in her eyes. That leaves her cold.  
She makes sure she does not meet his eyes. Concentrates instead on the string before her. She hates working with it, hates the delicate work it takes to make it conduct. Her knots are spaced wrong and they are not turned quite right. Thus they do not channel her energy as they are supposed to do. Nadia Rizavi, the girl she sits with, has no such problems. Pidge has only ever seen her in movement, she talks with her hands as much as she does with words and even when she sits in class, she is twitching and tapping her fingers. She is calm now. Has already assembled and disassembled her knotwork twice, is making the red string dance to her will once again. The boy on Pidge's other side is useless. He has managed to tie his fingers together thrice already. His string has ripped. She strikes his name from her memory.  
"That looks promising," her father says to Nadia. He does not look at Pidge. Her eyes burn and for a moment she chokes, forces her tears back.  
She chose this.  
That does not make it easier. 


	3. The Spirits of the Night

Sneaking out is the easiest part of their nightly adventures. Leaving the rooms at night is not encouraged but it is not forbidden either.  
Keith brushes his skin against the door and it glides to the side with a soft hiss. "Told you it would work," Pidge says, a smug grin on her face.  
"Yeah, yeah," Keith says. "Come on, Sanda's office is all the way on the other side of the building." "Of course it is," Pidge says annoyed, but follows him without hesitation.  
Getting out is easy. The part where they sneak into the principal's office is another story. Students are not allowed inside unless called here, hell, the professor's are not allowed inside unless invited either.  
"Describe her soul to me," Pidge says. Keith frowns.  
"It's not-"  
"It's soul energy, bla bla, I know. Describe it."  
Keith shakes his head. "Like wind, but uhm, calm too? Sharp and light. Oh, and salty."  
Pidge stops rummaging around her small bag. She gives him a disbelieving look. "Salty?" She repeats. Keith shrugs.  
"Yeah," he says. "Salty."  
"Soul's have taste?" She asks. Keith rolls his eyes at her. It is not the souls, but their energy.  
"Not all of them," he says defensive. "Yours doesn't."  
"Damn," she says. "If it had, I bet it would be coffee."  
"Can we focus?" Keith asks.  
"Sure." Pidge pulls a small thermos bottle from her bag. "Drink this."  
Keith takes the bottle and raises an eyebrow. "You put potions in a thermos?"  
Pidge raises both brows at him. "Okay, first, never call it a potion ever again, it's just over glorified tea. Second, yes. Glass breaks, genius."  
Keith shrugs and drinks the over glorified tea. Lukewarm rosemary. He grimaces.  
"That's disgusting," he says, but he can feel how the burning of his energy ceases. He shivers, zips up his jacket.  
"Baby," Pidge says. In her hand she holds a blue stone, lapis maybe, Keith is not sure. The wild flailing of her energy calms, the electric feel it carries gone. She presses her hand against the door.  
"It's not going to work," Keith says. It does not. The door stays firmly locked. Pidge frowns.  
"Let's try the other professors' offices," she says, determined not to give up. 

Their days are spend learning what the Garrison can teach. They make conductors from red string, knots and bones of birds and cats, grow lavender, orchids, roses, chamomile, rosemary and plants they can not name, paint circles with ink and chalk and blood.  
Their nights are spend trying to trick the energy locks and emulate the souls of their professors. Pidge can do a lot with herbs and teas and stones, but she can't sharpen a soul, can't increase pressure, make it softer or change its taste from her bitterness to Sanda's saltmine or Ryner's nectar sweetness.  
Her knowledge only goes so far.  
Three weeks pass like that before Pidge grows frustrated and desperate. It is two weeks more than Keith manages. His agitation becomes clearer with each night that passes unsuccessful. He snaps at professors and students alike, racks up day after day of detention, drives away people that could have information they need. He chips away at the patience of the people that could throw him out. And at Pidge's. The thought that the professors will get tired of his attitude and send him away makes her stomach ache. Energy manipulation comes to Keith naturally, is as instinctive to him as breathing, but even that cannot save him forever.  
With the way their luck is going it cannot be long before Pidge is truly alone.  
She is sick of failure, worried about her brother and Keith is too much all at once. She is driven to her last wits. There is one last weapon left in her arsenal. Desperate she hopes.  
There is nothing else she can do. 

"I need lavender," she tells Keith as they walk to the cafeteria. Since Professor Ryner keeps watching her, Pidge has killed something in every botanic class so far, she can not get it herself. Questions would be asked.  
"Sure," he says. Keith asks no questions. She likes that about him. But his sticky fingers and disregard for all things rules will only get her so far.  
She has a mental list of names, people that may be useful to her and the ones they associate with. She knows who can give her what and who will rat her out if she asks the wrong questions at the wrong time.  
Her eyes trail over the people getting food and the ones already seated, searching. There. Matt used to keep stones and crystals on hand, quartz and opals and the odd topaz, but Pidge has never seen the kind of collection Ryan Kinkade hoards.  
She leaves Keith's side with a quick goodbye and strides over to the table her target has chosen. He sits alone often, only somedays Nadia joins him. Today it is not so. The table is otherwise empty and Pidge welcomes her change of luck.  
"Ryan," she greets. He grunts a response and looks up at her from his seat. He knows the drill by now. It is not the first time she has come to him.  
"What do you want?" He asks. He is not someone of many words, dislikes wasting time by beating around the bush. pidge welcomes that too.  
"I need a favour," she says. What else is new? "I want to borrow a moonstone."  
If there is one thing she has learned in the weeks past, it is that favours are worth everything in the Garrison. And as long as he does not ask what she uses the borrowed stones for, she will not ask about the summoning circles she draws for him.  
He nods and Pidge barely keeps herself from cheering. It is a nice break life is giving her. "Later," he says. She nods. She would not carry five hundred stones around with her either. Give or take.  
She leaves him alone, there is more for her to do. Her second target is the go to for all things plants. Pidge would rather catch him alone, as she did Kinkade, admittedly she is good but it would be impossible even for her. Hunk and Lance are all but joined at the hip.  
"Hello," she greets, her words interrupting the animated conversation between them.  
"What brings you to us?" Lance asks, eyes bright and smile brighter.  
"I need mint," she says. "I've been told you could give me some."  
Hunk is kind, would not ask her questions she has no answer to, but Lance is curious.  
"What do you need that for?" He asks and this is why Pidge would rather have talked to Hunk alone.  
"I'm a dreamwalker, you figure it out," she says, teasing but not unkind. That approach would never help her here. Let them think what they want as long as she gets what she needs.  
"Huh," Lance says and Hunk smiles at her.  
"Of course," he says. "Funny, Lance should have some dried mint leaves on him." He gives Lance a look and grins.  
"Hunk," Lance says indignant. "I need that." Hunk raises an eyebrow pointedly.  
"What for? Wandering off in botanics when Professor Ryner is distracted?" He asks, sarcastic. Lance huffs.  
"Come on buddy, I'll dry some more for tonight," Hunk mollifies him. He leans closer to Pidge. "He uses it to visit his family. Lance gets homesick easily," he mock whispers. Lance blushes, averts his eyes.  
"You're a dreamwalker too?" She asks, files that information away for later.  
"Kind of," Lance says. She does not know how that works. He is or he is not.  
"Who do you want to visit?" Lance asks. The calculation of observations takes her a split second. She quietens her voice, forces her eyes to dampen.  
"My older brother," she says. The slight choke is not by design. Lance's eyes soften, Hunk's smile turns understanding.  
"Fine," Lance says, pulls a small bottle from his jacket pocket. "Here."  
"Thank you," she says, rubs away the wetness from her face. "I need to go back to my friend."  
"If you run out talk to me," Hunk says, warmth in his eyes. Pidge almost feels bad for lying. Almost. 

At night, when Keith has been breathing steadily for hours, she burns the lavender and mint, clutches at the moonstone on her chest and wills sleep to take her. The hazy mist of the herbs guides her dreams and the scent follows her past the thin borders between waking, sleep and death.  
The night is black and the sand is white. She shivers, remembers the time the purity was stained by her blood. These sands are hungry and they lap at everything that does not belong. That first night she came unmarred and left bleeding. This night she belongs. As much as any human can belong in the world where spirits dwell.  
The Palace is as it has always been. Milky crystals climbing up in to ever twisting towers. A maze most humans dare not enter, those that do often do not return from it. Tonight the doors swing open before her, not one push of her hand needed. The stone under her feet is as dark as the everlasting night outside, if not darker, and none of her steps echo. The Palace is silent.  
The room she enters is a lake surrounded by snowy coloured walls. The black stone way leads to the middle of the water where the throne of ancient kings and queens sit. The white stone chair is the property of the being she has come for. The snow leopard is already sprawled over the throne, relaxed and waiting. He looks regal, none of the cruelty he has shown her before to be seen.  
"You again," he says, his voice echoey and fluid. "What have you come for this time?"  
"I need a spirit," she says. "Please," she adds. The thought that maybe she should not demand things from beings far her superior is not a foolish one. "One that can copy energy signatures."  
He tilts his head. "You realize you will pay twice for that?" He asks her. "Me and them?"  
"I do," she answers. What spirit has ever done anything for free? Her soul can take it. What is another piece traded away for the safety of her brother?  
"Then so be it," he says. His eyes glow brighter than ever.  
She wakes from the shivers racking her small body and the icy coldness crawling along her bones. She can feel something missing, an essential piece of who she is that is now gone. 

The promised spirit comes two days later. They sit outside the Garrison grounds with Professor Trigel supervising. They are placed far enough apart as not to disturb each other, but not as far as that the Professor can not watch them all.  
"Desert spirits aren't shy, so I don't expect too many problems," she says, her voice smoaky and calm. "Still, don't get discouraged if none answer your call." She smiles serenely at them. "If one does come to you remember that they like to play tricks. If you have anything of value on you, give it to me and I will watch it. I can guarantee it will be gone if you don't." Her smile vanishes and something hard takes its place. "And don't make promises you can't keep. They don't like that."  
No spirit ever does.  
Pidge has nothing with her but her clothes. She knows of the coyotes that howl with the shifting of the sand, stealing coins and jewels, and the birds whose wings never stir the air, who take anything that shines from anyone not attentive enough. Matt lost his first pair of glasses here in the canyons, taken right from his nose by a falcon whose wings were wind and whose eyes were clouds.  
She sits in the sand, concentrates on making her energy seem softer than it is and more welcoming than she feels. Lets it call softly to beings old and better not angered.  
It takes her two waves of 'come here' and 'let's play', before a fennec appears from the sand, fur made of sandstone and dust, with eyes the greyish green of the few plants that manage to grow here. It yips,a sound like the winds in the canyons yet far older than them. Its tail wags happy and playful, the movements shaking away the dust from its small body. Pidge sighs. This is not what she hoped for.  
Professor Trigel comes to a halt beside her. Her steps so careful, lest she scares away the spirit her charge called forth, that Pidge only notices her now.  
"Very good," she says, friendly and warm. "You're the second," she informs her. Pidge looks at the others around her, most are still calling out in soft, welcoming waves. Keith is the only she cannot see sitting in the sand. She searches for him. He is playing catch with one of the cougars that come with the sun and leave with the wind. As expected from mister 'everything comes natural'.  
"Hello there little buddy," she hears Hunk say. Pidge as well as Professor Trigel look to him. In his hands sits a jumping mouse, fur green and plantlike, crested with thorns. A cactus spirit. Of course Hunk manages to call a plant sprite in a desert.  
James curses and sprints after a coyote that laughs like shifting dunes. It carries a watch in its mouth. Professor Trigel sighs and leaves her side to help her wayward student.  
Kinkade comes next. He strokes a finger over the head of a falcon, the kind that flies forever and never once beats their wings.  
"Fuck!" Lance. Her head wips to him and Professor Trigel looks at him sharply at his outcry. It does not take her long to figure out what is wrong. His pants and shirt are drenched. He looks absolutely furious. A brown, almost black, snake is making its way around his arm and neck, blue markings pulsing. She blinks. Blinks again. Rubs at her eyes. But the water spirit is still there. She shakes her head, files that away for later too. Maybe Lance is more useful than she gave him credit for.  
The sand spirit at her feet yips and paws at her. She promised to play and now she is denying it. The ghost of old is growing impatient. When she looks down at it, it is still a fennec, but its fur is stardust and it cries sunlight.  
"You have called, my Lord has send me and I have come," a voice, vaguely female, much like the snow leopard's is vaguely male, says to her. She carries the sound of dying stars and suns climbing the stairs of their empire. Her eyes are old and show no kindness. Pidge shivers.  
"I demand what was promised me," she says. Her words make the sand shake. Even the old desert fears the ancient ones of the sky.  
Pidge looks over at Professor Trigel, Keith and Ina. "Not here," she says. The fox huffs, a drop of sunlight falling from her cheeks, dripping onto the sand and turning it to glass.  
"I can be anything," she says. "Then I can mask the breaking of a soul as well." She takes what is hers. Where the snow leopard is cold enough to freeze her bones, the fennec is merciless heat vaporizing her blood. She shakes just the same when it is over. Another piece missing from her, another part of her self lost.  
"Stretch out your hand," the fennec commands. Pidge does, her limbs still trembling. The fennec rubs her cheek against her skin, lets her ever running tears fall to her wrist. It comes away dusted silver, the golden mark of a spirit's gift burned into her skin.  
"You have what you wanted," the fox says. "Now you must play with me." As she wags her tail her fur becomes dust and sandstone again.  
"Play?" Pidge asks.  
"You have promised!" Her voice is storms and quicksand, but beneath that hides the sound of comet showers. Pidge did when she called the creatures of the desert, trying to entice them, but she did not think that stars and dawn would hold her to that.  
"What about tag?"  
"Adequate." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Pidge uses her spirit's gift and Keith begins to question his brother's sanity


	4. The Beginning and the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how archeology works and did exactly 0 research, please ignore any inaccuracies ^^'

Keith is wrestling with the cougar, sand flying every way around them, the only reason it is not blinding his eyes is, because the cougar wants a fair fight. The claws catch on the skin of his arm, rip red lines into the paleness. The cougar backs of, licks the blood from its paw. Keith hisses at the burning pain, inspects the wound and sighs relieved, when he finds the three marks not as deep, as he thought them to be.  
"I apologize," the spirit says, glowing eyes watching him. It does not sound sorry. The words alone are already more, than he would expect from a creature of the desert. They do not like to admit mistakes.  
"It's oka-" He stops himself, before he says something, that he will regret. If allows it now, it will only hurt him again. "I accept your apology," he says instead.  
"We are going back," Trigel calls to the students.  
"Goodbye," Keith says, lest he offends the creature. The cougar tilts its head.  
"Fare well, little one," it says. The body made of sand dissipates with the wind, until all that remains are its paw prints in the dust.  
Keith joggs over to Pidge and walks at her side, two steps in front of them Lance and Hunk are talking. Lance is ranting about his wet clothes and the snake that drenched him, Hunk is grinning and nodding in the right places. Keith rolls his eyes.  
Trigel leads them back to the Garrison, where Iverson and Sanda are already waiting for them. With them is a girl Keith does not recognize. Her skin is dark and her bound back dreadlocks dyed pink and blue and yellow. She is older than them, maybe a year or two above them. Lance catches sight of her and stops talking mid-sentence.  
"Dude," Hunk says, voice carrying easily and coloured in surprise. "What is she doing here?"  
Lance shrugs. "Ezor does what Ezor wants," he says. Her eyes roam over the group, they have the same blue colour as Lance's, if only impossible brighter. She waves. From the canyons behind them sounds deep howling. She smiles with too many teeth to be friendly and walks away, she moves like the world is hers. As the suns sets her shadow seems not truly human. A trick of the light. 

"We're going out," Pidge says. Keith throws her a glance and nods. The Garrison sleeps and there are no guards to be avoided. Again, sneaking out is easy.  
"Where to?" He asks, sitting up from his place on the bed. He has not changed yet simply because Pidge did not, he had a feeling it would be a long night.  
"Principal Sanda’s office," she answers. Keith follows her out the door, the soft hiss it makes, as it opens impossible loud in the silence of the sleeping building.  
"You figured out how to unlock it?" He asks quietly as they walk.  
"Yes."  
There is no light inside the office, no rays crawling out from beneath the door. Keith watches as Pidge takes a deep breath and presses her wrist, rather the golden mark on it, against the door. He has always been sensitive to the feel of souls and the energy they carry. There are ways to mask the feel of it, soften or calm it for example, but he has never seen a soul truly change before. Pidge's does. The wild, always moving, electric feel of it disappears, instead there is less pressure, hard edges and the taste of salt in the air. Sanda. The door lights up shortly and opens with a muted hiss. Keith frowns but lets Pidge usher him inside without words.  
"What did you do?" He asks only after the door closes behind them.  
"Accepted a gift from the desert," she says. Keith does not believe her. He is a desert child. Its spirits are wild and playful and neverchanging. Sure the winds changes and the dunes change with it, as it herds the sand to new places, but it is always the same winds and the same sand. This is not something the desert is capable of giving. He lets it go. They have what they want, there are more important things to do.  
"I'll look through the shelves," Pidge says. "You can look through the desk."  
Keith keeps glancing at the clock on the wall ticking away time, not because he is scared of getting caught, but because they can not afford to be.  
"Found something!" Pidge exclaims. Keith is at her side immediately. The folder is rather thin compared to the ones he has looked through. A large CLASSIFIED is stamped on the front in red ink. Keith skims over the page Pidge has opened.  
"How can you tell?" He asks. "Over half of this is redacted." The paper doesn't say much, more lines blocked out by black bars than there are actual words.  
"But the names aren't," she answers. "Look." She holds the paper closer to his face. The names are unreadable, nothing more than washed out dots of ink, but it is not the same as the rest. That in itself is more telling than anything else.  
"Think she's gonna notice this missing?" Keith asks.  
"I don't think she even remembers it exists," Pidge answers, looking at him like he is an idiot.  
"Point," Keith says and takes the folder from her. "Let’s get out of here." 

They both squeeze onto Keith’s bed, a small lamp giving them just enough light to read through the papers. The first is a print of mail, it does not mention Shiro and Keith finds it hard to concentrate on the words, when they do not give him what he wants. 

> Subject: Ruin, designation B7  
To: Ellen Sanda, Principal of the Garrison  
Date: xx-xx-xx
> 
> As you are well aware, there has been a discovery of ancient ruins near your Garrison. My team and I have been tasked with the exploration and examination by a third private party. Under other circumstances this would be a simple case of erecting our camp near the excavation side and set up our machinery. However, it has been brought to my attention, that the ground, the ruins were found on, is owned by the Garrison and thus falls under your jurisdiction.  
I would like to formally request permission to set up our camp by the ruins and begin our examination. I will ensure that neither my team or our gear will come in the way of the education of your students and the work of your professor.
> 
> David Klaizap  
Archaeologist, President of Arsus Excavations

* * *

> Subject: Re: Ruin, designation B7  
To: David Klaizap, Archaeologist, President of Arsus Excavations  
Date: xx-xx-xx
> 
> In connection to the privacy of my students and faculty members I must deny your request. I am afraid the noise of your staff and the machinery will scare the spirits in the surrounding environment, as they tend to be shy and used to reclusion. This of course will be a great hindrance for the students and interfere in their education.  
I have consulted with Professor Trigel, our expert in the behaviour of spirits, their history and the civilizations that utilised them before us, and she agrees with my evaluation. She has however informed me that leaving the matter uninvestigated would be a great loss for our society. I have authorised her to begin explorations of the ruins and would be willing to cooperate with your firm at a later date, when the students are on break, at the end of this year. I hope you understand my reasoning on the matter. 
> 
> Ellen Sanda  
Principal of the Garrison

"'Tend to be shy'," Keith repeats disbelieving and Pidge beside him snorts.  
"I'll believe that when I see it," she says and flips the page. "'Research Report'," she reads and frowns. 

Research Report - Ruin, designation B7  
Operation Leader: Professor Diana Trigel  
xx-xx-xx 

We found the entrance to the ruins at the specified coordinates (**||||||||||||||**), **||||||** of the Garrison's barrier. In the month we examined the ruins we have observed the following findings: 

  * Assistant _Takashi Shirogane_ notes that the surrounding spirits avoid the area. A curiosity I can not explain. It is normal for lesser spirits, small creatures without the ability to communicate with humans, to avoid areas that are densely populated by greater spirits and, if shy in nature, humans. This descriptor, however, does not fit the lesser spirits of this desert. We have sighted no greater spirits in a radius of 1.5 kilometres, as such lesser spirits should me more frequent. It is not so.
  * The ruin entrance is carved into the naturally occuring canyons. An argeway, easily thrice the size of an adult man, forms the entrance, pillars made of sandstone line the sides of the hallway that first greets us. The hallway is build wide and would enable four horses riding alongside each other with space between them.
  * The main hallway is full of branching halls, most if not all leading to dead ends. We have marked them with colour coded chalk. Red for the ways leading nowhere. There is a lot of red.
  * One of the rooms we have found what may have been a weapons chamber once upon a time. The tools themselves are not well preserved. The remains of what we assume to be polearms and swords hang on the walls. In the middle the statues of two men and a woman stand proudly, clad in intricate clothes and carrying swords made of silver, which stands in stark contrast to the stone they were built of.  
Carvings on the floor depict imagery of war, two sides fighting each other with all kinds of weaponry. The carvings on the walls however show fights against spirits, animals decorated with intricate details of flowers, water, dust and what may be light. Here the humans use swords similar in design to the ones the statues hold, painted in faded but still recognisable purple. The civilisations that build this structure may have had blades that could cut and kill spirits, at least that is what some of the wall carvings seem to be depicting. What happened to these blades and why they were needed to fight spirits is unknown to us, but these findings alone are revolutionary.
  * The farthest room from the entrance is the first and only room carved into a circular form. A round plateau resides right in the middle of it. On two sides of the plateau are columns build from white crystal which I have never seen before. _Matt Holt_ assisted in analysing the sample (see Sample Report 241).  
Imbedded into the stone floor of the plateau is, what I can only describe as a metal weave that resembles some of today's conductor knots. The function of this room and its interior is as of yet unknown.
  * We have found pieces of a statue that stood behind the plateau in the room. After many days of fitting the pieces together, we have come to the result, that the statue depicts a woman on her knees. She is shackled to the floor and her hands are bound together in front of her. She looks defeated. We can only assume that she was an enemy combatant. Why a statue of her was constructed is unclear.
  * _Takashi Shirogane_ has uncovered a large carving on the wall behind the statue. It shows the capture of the woman and how she is brought to the plateau. _Shirogane_ mentions how it looks like she is forced to create **|| |||||||** between the columns. This is supported by a carving of the plateau with what appears to be **|| |||||||** in the middle of it. **||||||||| |||| |||||||| ||||||||||| ||||||||||||| || |||||||||| |||||||||||||**. This ancients structure **|||||| || ||||||| || ||| ||||| ||||||||||||| ||||||| ||||||||||| |||||||| || ||| ||||||||**. 

"Shiro and Matt were definitely involved with examining the ruins," Pidge says. "The names are unreadable, but it doesn't look like the redaction at the end."  
Keith nods. "So they went in and what? Never came out?"  
"But Professor Trigel is here and no one has forgotten her," Pidge argues.  
"Something must have happened," he says. "They don't classify files for fun." He turns the page. It is the one Pidge showed him in Sanda's office. 

Research Report - **||||||| |||||||||||**, designation S1 (B7)  
Operation Leader: Professor Diana Trigel  
xx-xx-xx 

Sanda approached me about testing our theory about the contraption build inside the ruin we have examined (see Research Report - Temple, designation B7). These are our tests and their results:

xx-xx-xx
     One of the summoners on my team, _Takashi Shirogane_, **||||||||| || |||||||** inside the machinery. He notes that, **||||||| || ||||| ||| || ||| ||||||| || ||||||| ||||||||**, it is easier to maintain. **||||||||||| || | ||||||||| ||||||| || ||||||| |||||| ||||||||||**. I am as of yet unsure if that means **||| ||||||| || ||||||||||||| || || || ||| |||||| || |||||||||**, **||| || |||| |||||| |||||||**, **||| || |||||||||| |||||||||| || ||||||**. Or maybe somewhere else entirely.
xx-xx-xx
    We have begun our first animal test. Shirogane opened another portal inside the machinery and I freed four mice from their containers. Two healthy males and two healthy females. All four **||||| |||||||| ||| ||||||| |||||||| ||||||| || |||||||**, but so far none has returned. Further observations needed before we can begin testing with larger animals.

"None of this is useful," Keith growls, frustration warping his tone.  
"Some of it is," Pidge says. She is biting her lip, eyebrows furrowed not in anger or confusion but thought.  
"Educate me," he snaps. "Because this is illegible."  
"It's about the plateau in the ruin, since that is the only part redacted in the last report."  
"We don't know what that is or where the ruins are," Keith points out. "The coordinates are redacted. Like anything else that might have been useful."  
"We’ll figure it out. Let's continue." 

xx-xx-xx
    Today two of the mice were found raiding our food rations. The camera we installed shows the first mouse **||||||| |||| |||||||| ||| |||||||** at 02:31. The second mouse **|||| ||| |||||||** at 03:57. An expert will examine the mice for any anomalies that may have manifested. 
xx-xx-xx
    Dissection of the mice proved no anomalies. To our luck both a male and a female **||||| |||||||| ||||| ||| |||||||**, both as healthy as they were before and showing no signs of burning. We will begin testing with larger animals. 
xx-xx-xx
     _Shirogane_ **|||||| || |||||||** once again and we send a healthy female pig **||||||| || ||| |||| ||||**. Again there is no reaction from **||| |||||||** or the animal. **|| ||||||| ||||||| || ||||||||**. 
xx-xx-xx
    It took three days for the test subject to **|||||| ||||| ||| |||||||**. Examination of the pig shows no signs of burning or other anomalies. We may have a real **||||||| |||||||||||** on our hands. I will send cameras **|||||||| ||| |||||||**, but I fear the large accumulation of energy will interfere with the technology. 
xx-xx-xx
    As I thought. The camera did not broadcast any images to our screens at the site and no usable footage could be recovered. I have send a request to begin human testing. 

"I have a really bad hunch," Keith says. Pidge grabs his arm, nails digging into his skin. She is pale. A tremor runs through her and Keith fares no better. Human testing has never sounded worse before.  
Hesitantly he turns the page, not sure he wants to know what he will find, except that he needs to. 

Research Report - **||||||| |||||||||||**, designation S1 (B7)  
Operation Leader: Professor Diana Trigel  
xx-xx-xx 

The request for human testing of the **||||||| |||||||||||** was approved. After careful consideration by me and a Psych Profile by my colleague Professor Iverson, we have arranged a team of two.

xx-xx-xx
     _Takashi Shirogane_ created **|| |||||||** at 06:34. The equipment was examined a second time, to make sure nothing is missing and everything is functional, as protocol dictates. Takashi Shirogane was **|||| |||||||| ||| |||||||** at 07:03. He was accompanied by _Matt Holt_ at 07:05. 
xx-xx-xx
     _Takashi Shirogane_ and _Matt Holt_ have not returned. 
xx-xx-xx
     _Takashi Shirogane_ and _Matt Holt_ have not returned. 
xx-xx-xx
     _Takashi Shirogane_ and _Matt Holt_ have not returned. 
xx-xx-xx
     _Takashi Shirogane_ and _Matt Holt_ have not returned. 
xx-xx-xx
     _Takashi Shirogane_ and _Matt Holt_ have not returned. 
xx-xx-xx
     _Takashi Shirogane_ and _Matt Holt_ have not returned. 
xx-xx-xx
     _Takashi Shirogane_ and _Matt Holt_ have not returned. 
xx-xx-xx
     _Takashi Shirogane_ and _Matt Holt_ have not returned. 
xx-xx-xx
     _Takashi Shirogane_ and _Matt Holt_ have not returned. 
xx-xx-xx
     _Takashi Shirogane_ and _Matt Holt_ have not returned. 
xx-xx-xx
    The experiment was deemed a failure. A resque is not possible.

"Not possible?!" Keith is shaking, fury and something far colder running through his veins, clenching his hands. "They did this!"  
Pidge is quiet, her eyes witness to the calculations she is running in her head. Any other time Keith would appreciate the cold practicality of his friend. Now all it serves is amplifying his anger, the fire itching beneath his skin.  
"I think," Pidge says after a while, in which Keith is this close to exploding, "we are done for tonight."  
"Done?! We need to do something!" He argues. They can't just sit here.  
"What?" Pidge is just short of shouting, her frustration finally bleeding through. "We have no idea what happened, where we need to search or how this ties in with the memory thing!"  
Pidge is many things, but she is not impulsive and Keith backs down in face of her anger. It does not happen often, but even he has to recognise some social cues.  
Silence crawls between the edges of frustration and rage. Sharp edges neither wants to cut the other with.  
"We should sleep," Pidge says. Keith only nods. They both know neither of them will find sleep tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Nadia saves the day


End file.
